


same as it ever was

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Spoilers for SDR2 Chapter 1; Canon-divergent] Komaeda is very persistent after the first trial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	same as it ever was

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this literally months and months ago. Like, just after I finished chapter 1. There's so much I can find wrong with it now, but I just want to publish it!

When the trial is over, and the punishment exacted, all that Hajime Hinata wants to do is go back to his cabin, bathe, and sleep. He's pretty sure he can manage the first two. The third will be harder. Until the execution, even the trial had felt like some desperate, intense event – kind of like a game? Yeah, that's it exactly. A game with high stakes, sure, but still a game. Winnable. But in the aftermath there is nothing left but Togami and Hanamura's corpses. Fourteen living students. No escape until only one remains.

And of course, the trial uncovered something else.

“Hinata-kun!”

/Shit/.

Komaeda follows him outside as though nothing has changed since the beginning, where Hinata woke up inhaling sea-salt and blinking into his pallid, earnest face. Where to next, Hinata-kun? Has he remembered what his talent is, yet? Does he want to get lunch?

Hinata clenches his hand into a fist and for one desperate second imagines using it to break Komaeda's nose. Unfortunately even in this fleeting fantasy Komaeda doesn't stop smiling, even while blood streams from his nostrils and spatters his lips. Hinata is cursed with a mind that insists on unfailing accuracy.

He keeps his fist at his side as he turns. “What.”

“Why are you running? I can walk you to your cabin.”

“Are you mocking me?”

 “No,” Komaeda says, and he looks only slightly puzzled, like Hinata is being deliberately contrary. His eyes are clear and vivid, bright green even in the half-light. The skin of his face is shiny, though, where he was perspiring and fisting his hands through his hair throughout the trial. It's good that Hinata picks up on it, because otherwise he might have thought he'd dreamed the entire thing.

 He starts walking. Komaeda walks with him, still looking disarmingly perplexed.

 “You're not walking me to my cabin.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because...Do I have to explain this to you? Really?” It is becoming increasingly obvious that he does. Hinata puffs out his breath in one exasperated burst. “How's about – you attempted to murder Togami in the hope that we'd all band together and murder you? How's, you flip-flopped between helping us incriminate Hanamura and bringing up counterarguments that could have killed us all? How's..”

 “Are you upset because you think I lied to you?”

 Hinata shuts up instantly. His fingernails are digging into his palm. He's not sure when both of his hands became fists, but he's beginning to wish he could use both of them to tenderise Komaeda's stupid lanky body into lunchmeat.

 “Hey, I understand,” Komaeda says. They're almost at the cabins. Hinata needs an excuse to shove Komaeda away from him quickly. Or would that provoke him into doing worse things? It's hard to tell. He definitely doesn't want Komaeda walking him up to the door. “It was a despicable, loathesome thing of me to do, Hinata-kun. I deceived you deliberately to achieve an end. I only hope you can forgive me, and we can go on as friends.”

 “You tried to murder Togami,” Hinata repeats, and unclenches his fists.  He pushes Komaeda away from him, hard enough for him to stumble back a step or two. Komaeda continues to smile.

 “I wouldn't try to murder you, Hinata-kun,” he says. He takes a step forward to close the distance. There's a little twist of madness in his eyes now, barely held back, and Hinata is so sick of him. He is so sick of his alternating fealties and how his breathing labours when he talks about _hope_ and _despair_. He rushes up the steps to his front door and seizes the handle.

 When he looks back, Komaeda has followed him – but only to the bottom of the steps. He looks up at Hinata with his wan smile and wild hair and asks, 'Can I come in?' and Hinata tells him to get lost. Komaeda asks again and Hinata says he has his own cabin to sleep in. And he doesn't trust Komaeda, not anymore.

 Komaeda asks again. Hinata opens the door and tells him to get in before he closes it.

 

–

 

The little holiday cottages feel roomy for just one person, but with Komaeda in here as well a lot of the space seems to be taken up. Komaeda is a blot on the room, a tall inelegant stain that ruins the rest of the atmosphere. He doesn't seem to mind, though. He spends a little while playing with Hinata's accrued collection of Monobear figurines, making jokes, pacing around and lamenting the lack of personal affects. He settles on Hinata's bed like a dustmote and smooths the covers out around him.

 Hinata stays stood rooted to the centre of the room. He feels like a guest in his own space. His hands are back into their customary fists and won't want to unfurl any time soon. Even now he's looking at Komaeda's face for warning signs – he seems dreamy and harmless as ever, but now that he's seen the facade slip once he has to be on guard for when it goes again. And it will go again. He's certain of that much.

 Komaeda smiles at him. “Come sit down.”

 “I'm okay here.”

 “You've been stood up in a courtroom all day. I don't have any weapons, see?” Komaeda has the nerve to waggle his fingers at him as though he's a stage magician, then shrugs out of his jacket and folds it up on his lap. “I understand that you're mad at me...”

 “Mad? Why would you think this is an issue of being mad at you?!” Hinata stays where he is and crosses his arms. “We had a guy who was looking out for us, Komaeda, and you tried to _cut him open_. This isn't just an issue of being mad. It's an issue of you being a _liability_.”

 “Mm,” Komaeda says. He's starting to get that drifting look in his face again. One of his hands reaches up to run through his own hair.

 “Stop it. Don't go – don't do all that weird creepy stuff, okay? I'm talking to you.”

 “Mmmmmmm.”

 “Komaeda!”

 Hinata crosses the room and puts his hands on his shoulders. Komaeda's head lolls alarmingly backwards. There is a thread of spittle that connects the corner of his mouth to his chin in a fine strand. He laughs in Hinata's face, then grabs his tie – in one impressive movement he manages to tug Hinata close, practically into his lap, and Hinata's forced to kneel in front of him to accommodate without getting strangled.

 His heartbeat jacks up into hundreds, this is it, why the fuck did he let him in in the first place? But that's an easy enough question to answer. Ironic too, considering all of those glazed ramblings about eternal hope. But he _does_ want to hope for Komaeda's essential goodness, even in spite of the awfulness of the day. But now here he is, stuck with his tie chafing his throat and Komaeda's legs pressing into his sides. Hope is for rookies.

 Komaeda lets go of his tie and cups his face in his hands.

 He strokes his thumbs over Hinata's cheeks.

 Hinata's heartbeat stays where it is, a pneumatic _thmp-thmp-thmp_ that he can barely form words around. Komaeda lets him scramble back upwards, and he does, but only as far as resting his palms on Komaeda's knees and pushing himself up so he can stare him in the face. 

 “What do you want?”

 Komaeda's eyes look almost blue in this light. His face is so strange when you look at it up close – a lot of attractive features, sure, but arranged with a symmetry that has its own unpleasantness to it, a smile that rests just a little too wide on his face. He's smiling now, of course. Komaeda is always smiling.

 “I want to believe in you, Hinata-kun,” he says. “I want to believe in _all_ of you.”

 And he cranes his neck the couple of centimetres further that it takes to kiss Hinata on the mouth. Hinata tries to speak, to protest – but finds himself just rolling his eyes and submitting, because for tonight at least he has reached the limits of giving a shit. Here they all are on Lunatic Island, and the biggest lunatic of them all is sat here caressing his face and coaxing his mouth open with his lips. Komaeda's face feels damp against Hinata's own. Sweat and spit. Fucking hell.

 “I _liked_ you,” he grumbles disconsolately against Komaeda's cheek when the other boy finally pulls away, eyes placid and untroubled by such petty things as Hinata's inner turmoil. “Why did you have to turn out so weird.”

 “Everyone on this island is weird in their own way, wouldn't you say?”

 An exasperated grunt. “They didn't try to murder anybody.”

 Komaeda's hands on his collar, unfastening the top button – Hinata panics and catches his hands, not yet.

 “Hinata-kun.”

 “Mm.”

 “I want to kiss you again.”

 “...”

 He is more prepared this time. Komaeda bites down on his lower lip, and Hinata sucks obligingly against his mouth. Now he can move his own hands to his shirt and unfasten it himself. He can hear Komaeda's death-rattle breathing above him, starting, stalling, starting, stalling – stalling, as Hinata shrugs his shirt off and looks defiantly into his face.

 “Monokuma didn't care? I would have thought he would have made a big deal of...of something like that.”

 “Why would he? I don't give a shit.”

 ‘Then I won’t either.’

 Komaeda runs his fingertips over the front of the spandex, humming lyrically as he goes. Then his attentions dip lower. He sinks to the floor and tugs on Hinata’s trousers. Hinata isn’t sure himself why he lifts his hips to allow it – Komaeda’s fingers are insistent and convincing enough to quell him. And anyway, he’s not feeling like himself. The world is wavery and too heavy and it’s hard to parse it as real. Two people died tonight and now Komaeda’s taking off his boxers. That’s how it is, he guesses.

 ‘Can I,’ Komaeda says when Hinata’s boxers are past his knees. He doesn’t specify what he means in words, because he isn’t really waiting for an answer. His face presses into the cold skin of Hinata’s thigh, and he laughs. He turns. The tip of his nose brushes against the underside of his stomach, there’s a puff of breath against his most intimate part and Hinata is suddenly so humiliated that he tries to close his legs. Too late. Too late.

 Komaeda’s lips are around his clit and his tongue presses hard against it.

 Hinata gasps.

 He rests backward on his palms, bites his lips closed, turns his face away.

 ‘You don’t have to look at garbage like me,’ Komaeda says. His voice is quiet, amused, but there’s an edge of sullenness there, isn’t there? ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

 His tongue reaches out again inbetween Hinata’s folds. Hinata filters the next gasp between his teeth in the hopes that will make it quieter; he’s wrong. Komaeda coaxes him back on the bed and persuades his legs apart, tonguing enthusiastically the entire time. He slips too low. Low enough that the very tip of his tongue slips inside.

 ‘No,’ Hinata mumbles weakly, trying to grab for purchase on the cloud of hair, failing, only succeeding in goading him on – his tongue pushes inside, hard, and Hinata tightens involuntarily around it. It feels good enough that he whines, all low and harsh and angry, and Komaeda withdraws long enough to laugh at him.

 ‘No?’

 ‘Shut up. Shut up, you fucking...Just, just shut up.’

 ‘Hinata-kun,’ Komaeda says, much more softly than he has said it before. He’s back between his thighs, working his tongue in and out while one long finger teases his clit. Hinata moans and the strength in his arms buckles, he has to resort to his elbows, and Komaeda’s tongue is _skilful_ beyond his teenage years and his fingers are committed to bringing him off.

 He thinks he might sob his name when he comes. He tries to clamp his mouth around it; ironically, the name sounds dirty on his tongue, like he’s not worthy of moaning it. It comes out anyway, just as soft as his own name was uttered just minutes before.

 ‘Komaeda,’ he sobs again as his orgasm hits, it’s too intense and Komaeda’s tongue doesn’t stop pistoning inside of him, his fingers don’t stop moving, the heat doesn’t abate and when he comes Togami and Hanamura don’t stop being dead. The world whites out and goes dark, but then when he opens his eyes it’s exactly the same, and Komaeda is smiling his Cheshire cat’s smile from between his shaking legs.

 He doesn’t cry when he collapses back onto the bed. He asks Komaeda to leave with way less conviction than he managed beforehand.

 And perhaps because Komaeda knows Hinata doesn’t want him to leave, he does.


End file.
